


Draco Malfoy and the Art of Gate-Crashing

by brighidg



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cheating, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 13:05:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7316281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brighidg/pseuds/brighidg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He idly wondered if there was some defective gene that made the Greengrass women date the dullest wizards they could find.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Draco Malfoy and the Art of Gate-Crashing

It was a busy night at the Leaky, the pub was packed with people for Ernie Macmillan's birthday.

God, he hated himself for even knowing that. All the stupid little details he had learned because of her.

Stepping inside, Draco ignored the dirty looks shot his way. He headed to the corner table where he would usually find her, pint in hand and a thick book in front of her. Instead, several people were milling around the table drunkenly singing what he suspected was a Muggle song.

The party could have been a Dumbledore's Army reunion and wouldn't have looked much different. The place was crawling with Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. Aside from himself, Daphne Greengrass was the only other Slytherin in the room and she was attached to Macmillan's arm, smiling as he droned on about making partner and Granger's work with him. He idly wondered if there was some defective gene that made the Greengrass women date the dullest wizards they could find. Perhaps there was some erotic thrill in it, an assurance that they'd always be the more adventurous one. 

Craning his neck, Draco looked for someone she might be with, someone he could ask. He spotted Weasley easily, his garish hair like some ungodly beacon in the candle-lit pub. Beside him, predictably enough, were Potter and Longbottom. _Three of Wizarding Britain's Finest_ , he thought with a snort.

“What's he doing here?" he heard Goldstein mutter as he passed, heads turning in his wake. Lavender sat beside her husband, glaring at Draco as if he actually _had_ walked in on DA reunion. "I doubt he was invited."

Draco stiffened, wondering if he was about to be thrown out or - worse - forced to relive his fifth-year train ride home. But out of the corner of his eye he could see Abbott shrug, shoulders touching her dangling earrings as she did. "The tavern is still open for regular customers."

With that, the attention left him, though the angry murmurs buzzed around him as he pushed further into the pub. She had to be here - unless she was sick or busy at work or late or had left early or any of the million other reasons he couldn't find her.

Someone in their group said her name and Draco stepped closer to hear the rest.

“...outside for a breath of fresh air.” he heard Fletchley say to Weasley and Longbottom, adding with a small laugh, “Which means she went out for a fag.”

Of course she would. How did he not even think of it? Since she obviously hadn't been outside near the wizarding entrance, Draco pushed his way towards the Muggle side, not even bothering with empty apologies as he did.

He spotted her as soon as he stepped outside, resting against the building, smoke curling in front of her. For a moment all he wanted to do was drink in the sight of her; how lush her hair looked when worn loose, how her cheeks hollowed and her lips puckered as she sucked on the cigarette between her fingers, and how the neckline of her wrap dress showed enough that he could see the swell of her breasts rise and fall with each breath.

Fuck, he didn't even know what he was going to say. He'd been so focused on finding her that he hadn't thought of what he would do next. Something about her always left Draco feeling off-balance - it had been that way since he had noticed her during a Quidditch match. She'd been a good flier but a piss-poor player, not nearly aggressive enough. Though that wasn't the only reason he had heckled her. He had wanted her to notice him, to remember him, to think about him as often as he thought about her. Because following each of those matches, he had wanked himself raw to memories of how she had looked in her tight Quidditch uniform, imagining how it would feel to be driving between those thighs that she wrapped so tightly around her broom. 

When Draco had left England, he had put his little obsession with her aside. He had found and fucked witches who were better-looking and more fun. He had thought he had forgotten about her until he ran into her again several months ago and his obsession began anew.

Fuck her. Fuck her for being so stubborn, for being a complete pill like her mother and for being such a bloody cocktease. Fuck her. 

She glanced over, no sign of surprise when their eyes met. Raising a brow, she said coolly, “Didn't think you were on the guest list.”

“I'm not.”

Dropping her cigarette to the ground, she crushed it beneath the toe of her high-heeled shoe. “Do I even want to know why you're here or should I just skip ahead to the part where I tell you I'm not interested in getting back together?” 

Draco's upper lip curled, worse than the actual words was almost _pitying_ tone. “Maybe I should be asking the questions? Why have you spent the past ten minutes out here? Are you avoiding someone? Why am I out here looking for you while your little boyfriend is inside with his friends?”

Rolling her eyes, she walked towards the door and he stepped in front of her. “Or maybe,” Draco continued in a soft voice, “it was too awkward being inside. Maybe that's why I didn't see you at your usual table? Tell me, did it bring back memories? I'll be honest, every time I see it, I think about how I got you off in front of the entire pub. Remember that? How I slid my hand under your robes? How your knickers were soaked before I even touched you? Remember how you clung to me, burying your face in my shoulder while spreading your legs for me?”

Even in the darkness he could see her pale skin flush, her breathing more shallow and her gaze determinedly avoiding his. 

“Or maybe you _wanted_ to reminisce? Was that it?” His hand rested on her hip and he was pleased when she didn't push it off. “Did you want to remember how good it felt to have my cock between your lips? How you moaned as I fucked your mouth?” His hand crept up till he was cupping her breast, her breath shaky as his thumb brushed against one hardened nipple. “How you pulled me into that alley, dropped to your knees and sucked me off like there was a few Galleons in it for you?”

She slapped him hard. “Fuck you.”

“That came later.”

She pushed past him and Draco grabbed her arm, looking around before he shoved her into the alley. He had more to say before he let her go. The minute he released her, she pulled her wand, pointing it under his chin. Draco smirked. “You'll never feel the same way about him that you do me. He'll never make you scream for him, _beg_ for him like I can.” The tip of her wand burned red-hot. Titling his head, he moved closer to her until he could feel her breath on his mouth. “He'll never need you the way I do and you'll never want him like you do me. You're wasting your time, Astoria.”

Draco kissed her, teeth hitting hers as he pushed her against the wall. Astoria bit his lip in response, curling one leg around his hip and grinding against him. He sucked and bit at her neck, knowing she could and would remove the bruises with a flick of her wand but wanting to mark her all the same. A soft sigh escaped her mouth when he grabbed her breast, pushing the material down so he could suck at the peak. Draco was tempted to tear the bra off, make it so she'd have to go home and he could spend the rest of the night reminding her that she was meant for him.

Astoria's hands went to his belt, pulling his shirt from his trousers before making short work of his flies. Draco groaned when she freed his cock, wrapping her hand around it and stroking him slowly. “He wouldn't fuck you in an alley like this, would he? He probably thinks you need wine and roses to get in the mood, doesn't he? Does he even know you _at all_?”

“Shut up and fuck me.”

She just had time to pull down her knickers and get one foot out before he grabbed that leg, pushed her dress aside, and slid in with one quick stroke. Astoria bit back a moan, her nails digging into his shoulder as he started to slowly move. With her dress open she was completely exposed - breasts pushed over the cups over her bra, free hand between her thighs and his slick cock fucking her - and she didn't care. It meant something, it must. She wouldn't be this way with just anyone.

“He hasn't fucked you yet, has he?” he panted, fucking her in earnest. No matter how she tried, she couldn't hold back her cries as his thrusts came harder and faster. With his free hand he cupped her jaw, slowing down to kiss her, whispering against her lips, “You didn't fuck him yet, did you?”

“No, no,” Astoria muttered, shaking her head, her thighs trembling and her nails breaking his skin. She was close. He kissed her hard, his tongue pushing into her mouth as he swallowed her screams. Then he came, shuddering and clutching her for support.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, until she pulled away and began cleaning up, fixing her clothes and hair as she did. Draco pulled himself together, redressing and casting a couple of quick Cleaning Charms on his trousers. 

“Azzy?” It was Daphne. Finally, someone had noticed she hadn't been at the party and it _still_ hadn't been Fletchley. “Azzy, are you out here?”

He was about to suggest they leave, run off like they did at her sister's wedding, but Astoria spoke first. With a quick glance to him, she said quietly, “This doesn't change anything.”

Draco stared at her.

She didn't meet his gaze. “I should be getting back.”

“Have fun on your date,” he sneered, before walking away.


End file.
